


You've Begun to Feel Like Home

by comically_so (knobblyfruit), knobblyfruit



Category: Pundit RPF, Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knobblyfruit/pseuds/comically_so, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knobblyfruit/pseuds/knobblyfruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson fails at vacationing. Keith tries to fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Begun to Feel Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. One minute I'm reading a Star Trek novel and the next minute I'm writing this. My first attempt at Anderson POV. Title from "Look After You" by The Fray. Should I warn for a bizarre mix of mild angst and fluff?

Anderson gazes out the window with a blank expression on his face. The view is breath-taking; the sun is just peeking over the ocean, adding oranges and reds to the deep blue of the sky. A ray of light spills through the window and over his hand, and it conjures up a memory of when he was little, trying to catch the sunlight in his tiny fist and always being disappointed when it remained empty.

And the memory of being ten years old and wishing he could have caught it and bottled it to give to his mother, because maybe it wouldn’t bring his father back but it would chase away the rainclouds that seemed to follow her everywhere.

He lets out a small sigh. This is why he’s no good at vacations. The beach reminds him of the sandcastles he helped his father build (nothing elaborate, but always much cooler than anything anyone else was making), his brother’s goofy grin underneath enormous goggles (Anderson said he looked like a dweeb with them on, but he secretly wanted a pair of his own), and his mother sitting and smiling underneath a giant umbrella (he always tired out first, so she’d wrap him in a towel and he’d fall asleep in her arms to the sound of Carter laughing).

He pulls his hand away from the sunlight and shoves it in his pants pocket where his Blackberry would usually be. He scowls at the reminder that he’s more or less completely disconnected from the outside world right now. Even the television is disconnected. It scares him, just a bit. He can’t help but think there’s something happening out there, something huge, and he’s missing it.

“Dammit, Andy.” There’s a rustle of blankets behind him, and he shifts his gaze from the window to see Keith sprawled out on the bed like he owns it, sheets tangled around him, arm slung over his eyes. His voice is thick with sleep. “It’s ass o’clock in the morning. Come back to bed.”

“Then give me the code to the safe.” Keith had put both of their phones in the small safe and unhooked the TV when they got to their room, telling him he was going to get some real relaxation if it killed him. Anderson did take that opportunity to point out that any relaxation that killed him probably wasn’t all that relaxing, but it just earned him a glare that clearly said he wasn’t getting out of this one.

From the bed, Keith growls something under his breath and fumbles for his glasses on the night stand. He shoves them on and, for a second, Anderson thinks he going to open the safe, but he stomps his way to the bathroom, not-quite-slamming the door behind him.

Anderson knows it was childish, but part of him doesn’t care. The rest of him wants to bang his head against the wall for pissing off Keith. It’s his vacation too, after all.

He stares out the window again. The sun has made some more progress on its ascent into the sky, and Anderson wishes he were moving too. He doesn’t feel natural staying in one place for so long, especially for two weeks in this sleepy little resort town in the middle of the Caribbean where nothing is bound to happen.

He’s in the middle of imagining worst-case scenarios that he could be missing (presidential assassination, major earthquake, nuclear war) when the sudden noise of the toilet flushing startles him out of his thoughts. A minute later the bathroom door swings open and Keith heads right to him, wearing an expression that could only be called determined.

He grabs Anderson’s arm and pulls him to the bed, giving him a gentle push so he has no choice but to fall on to it. Keith crawls after him, forcing Anderson to lay down on his back with one strong arm and setting his glasses back on the night stand with the other. Then he throws one leg over Anderson’s and slings an arm across Anderson’s chest, settling his face in the area between Anderson’s neck and shoulder.

Anderson can’t help but laugh. “So that’s a no, then?”

“You think too much,” Keith mutters against Anderson’s skin. “You’re giving _me_ a headache.”

“I was just admiring the view.” It really shouldn’t surprise him when Keith snorts in disbelief.

“And I’m the Queen of Goddamned England.” Keith’s arm tightens almost protectively around Anderson. “Let Blitzer baby-sit the world for awhile. Go back to sleep.”

Anderson doesn’t reply. The white stucco ceiling isn’t quite as interesting to look at as the sunrise but he supposes it will do. He highly doubts he’ll be getting any more sleep this morning, anyway.

He knows a normal person would be grateful for this kind of vacation, or any at all, and he knows that lots of people would kill to be where he is now (he means the tropical island in general, but there are probably more than a few who would kill to be in Keith’s arms, too). He’s just never been good at staying in one place, and there hasn’t been anyone around to make him since he moved out of his mother’s house.

Sure, he’s had relationships in the past – boyfriends _and_ girlfriends – but they always gave up. He remembers every time they begged him to not go, every time they tried to guilt him into not going somewhere. Looking back, he realizes they just never gave him a reason to stay. And when he got home, they’d be gone.

Keith, on the other hand, has never once asked him not to go. Never threatened to leave him if he got on the next plane. Never tried to tell him it couldn’t _possibly_ be more important than spending time with him. Just kissed him, told him to be careful, and let him go.

So it’s a bit ironic that Keith is the one person he would stay for.

With that thought, it suddenly occurs to him why Keith insisted on being, for the most part, incommunicado. Every moment on his Blackberry equals another moment away from Keith. Every story covered on the news equals another possibility that Anderson will want to pack up and leave. Keith hadn’t let him bring his laptop because every email equals another chance that someone will ask him to fly somewhere and report something.

Keith is asking him, just this once, to _stay_.

He smiles to himself, lifting his hand to wrap his fingers around the hand across his chest. He turns and ducks his head to capture Keith’s lips with his own. When he pulls back to meet Keith’s questioning eyes, he simply says, “Yeah, okay.”

He isn’t surprised at all when Keith just smiles sleepily, like he knows exactly what Anderson is talking about. Without a word, Keith’s fingers curl around Anderson’s own and he settles his head where it was before.

After that, Anderson doesn't have any trouble falling asleep.

END.


End file.
